


In the Middle, the Beginning, the End

by katiemariie



Category: Farscape
Genre: Ableism, Canon Disabled Character, Community: farscape_land, Episode Tag, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-11 13:48:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiemariie/pseuds/katiemariie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stark and Talyn have a nice little chat after "Meltdown." And by "nice," I mean "horrifying."</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Middle, the Beginning, the End

Stark tries very desperately to sleep, to be good _be a good little Banik_ , to not know what he shouldn't, and to know what he should. There's a problem—the persistent problem. He doesn't truly exist. He doesn't belong here. This realm is all very foreign to him.

There are rules. _Talyn is now off limits to you. All functions, all programs, all controls._ Rules he can't obey or even begin to comprehend—to wrap his mind around. Time flows from point A to point B. Past, present, future. All they have is this instant. That's where Stark is supposed to reside. Never before and certainly not after. _Time is meaningless and yet it is all that exists._

The biologics of this realm are accommodating, _MATTER? MATTER? I'LL TELL YOU MATTER! ANTI-MATTER MATTER MATTER MATTER MATTER MATTER!_ but the simple matter of when... It frells his head up. Maybe even worse than the chair. _The chair, the chair, remember the chair!_

The problem with existing atemporally is that he's still in the chair. He's still a slave. He's still wired into Talyn.

And Talyn gets what he wants.

And Talyn _knows_. Knows that Stark is still there.

And Talyn gets what he wants. (Did that already happen? Should we do it again? Better this time?)

He whispers in Stark's ear, taking, tempting, tasting...

What is this world? There's so much Crais won't explain. Can't. A father can't be everything for a boy. Stark assumes. He wouldn't know. Ask Crichton. _And there's life out here, Dad. Weird, amazing,_ psychotic _life. And, uh, in Technicolor. Hey, Dad, You know those rattlers in the stomach we talked about? Well, I got 'em now..._

“Stark. Stark. _Stark_.”

He rolls over. Tries to muffle the noise with a pillow.

“Stark.”

“What?” he hisses.

“I keep hearing a word, but my translator microbes haven't been able to explain its significance.”

“Ask Crais. I don't—I don't do words. You don't want to know my words.”

“Crais won't tell me.”

“Then perhaps you shouldn't know... There are bad words—forbidden words we shouldn't speak, shouldn't know. Don't talk about them.”

“Words like 'frell.'”

“No, not like frell... You're very young, Talyn.”

“I want to know what the word means.”

“And you won't leave me alone until I tell you.”

“No.”

“What word? What's the word?”

“Fahrbot.”

“Who said that? Who taught you that word?”

“Everyone says it, but I don't know what it means.”

_Talyn, you know you're sick. You let us board. Now, I don't want you to be frightened; you're not going to die. You'll be reborn. It's a fresh start. Please, Talyn, let us take away your pain._

_you freakazoid psycho bastard_

_I thank you all for the great risks you took to save a mere Banik slave. Your acceptance... Your friendship... has meant a lot to me._

_Talyn... starbust._

“It means... disposable.”

_You know what scares the hell outta me? From the first moment I laid eyes on you, I could never see the end._

_What scares me is I always could._


End file.
